Aim
by Iridian of the Shadows
Summary: MadaIta! Madara tests Itachi's aim. MAJOR oocness on Itachi's part, but whatever. Written a long time ago. Lemon


Madara lurked behind the think covering of trees, creeping closer to where he heard the thunk of kunai hitting wood. There! There he was. Itachi. Madara watched him through the trees, staring at his ass. Itachi threw a few more kunai, every one hitting their marks, before he rested his hands on his knees and wiped his forehead with the back of his wrist. He turned away to pick up a few kunai, and Madara stepped out.

"Hey, Itachi," he said, wondering bemusedly how Itachi would take to being startled.

The boy jumped, spinning around, then relaxed as he saw who it was. "Ohayo, Madara-sensei," he said respectfully, his voice betraying just how tired he was. He must have been training all day. He turned back around, kneeling down to pull a single kunai from a target rather close to the ground. Madara smirked and made his move.

He crouched behind him, pressing his chest into the young man's back. He cooed into Itachi's ear, "You have perfect aim." Itachi stiffened as Madara slid his hand into his pants.

"What are you doing?" Itachi asked, voice dripping venom despite being shaky. Madara nibbled on his earlobe.

"Testing your aim," he answered, taking his other arm and putting it around Itachi's waist to hold him there. The truth, although few knew it, was that Itachi was easy to cave in to things. He wanted to please people; even he didn't realize it sometimes. In a way, he was weak. And it didn't hurt that the  
Sharingan wouldn't be able to activate for a few more hours due to overuse.

Itachi's hands found the grass, hunching him over. Madara pressed closer, refusing to allow him to shrink away from him. Itachi's face was flushed, mouth open and panting lightly. Madara smirked at the look that his closed eyes and drawn eyebrows created. It was so cute that he just wanted to eat him up.

Well, maybe he just would.

Itachi squirmed. "D-don't touch me there…" he said breathily. It was almost a whine. Madara smirked wider, leaning in and licking the back of Itachi's neck. Already it tasted like frightened sweat, as if Itachi was anticipating it. he felt his cock twitch with the 'anticipating' _he_ was doing.

He began rubbing his thumb over Itachi's rapidly stiffening cock, still grabbing it. A sharp intake of breath could be heard in front of him. He moved his whole hand up so that it was just underneath his head and lightly coursed his calloused thumb over it. Itachi wriggled.

"S-stop!" he whined sexily. Madara just moved his arm from around his waist to be high on his collarbone, pulling him so that his back was pressed against Madara's own chest. He leaned in to lick behind Itachi's ear, not missing the way Itachi's fingernails dug into the skin on his forearm.

He licked the shell of Itachi's ear, whispering huskily, "You know what the difference is between 'stop' and 'go'?" he cooed. "This. Right. Here." He accentuated each word with a harsh pull on Itachi's cock, now stiff. Itachi's fingernails dug deeper into Madara's skin, and a tiny, almost inaudible sound was pulled out of the younger's mouth with every tug.

Madara noted with relish the way that Itachi's back arched to press his member a little more firmly into his hand, and the beautiful way his face lit up with a blush like spilled ink. He pulled Itachi's boner out of his pants, listening to him whine as the cold air hit his aching flesh. He smirked, nibbling on the side of Itachi's neck before pumping his hand. Itachi leaned his head back, eyes screwed closed, and mewled. He tried to wriggle away, but he didn't get anywhere.

Madara knew that Itachi had given in. he could do whatever he wanted to with that gorgeous, femininely feline body now. As if in reward for this victory, he pumped a little faster. Before more than a minute passed, Itachi was panting roughly. He squirmed, but they both knew it wasn't to get away.

Madara's arm stung as Itachi's nails bit in hard, his mouth opening in a choked scream. Madara watched with satisfaction as Itachi's cum splattered onto the white disk they called a target. He stalled his hand, watching idly. As soon as it was over Itachi's body relaxed slightly. Madara looked on for a moment as he panted.

"See, Itachi?" I asked as he leaned in to the younger boy, still looking at the cum-covered target. "Perfect."

Quicker than thought, Madara flipped Itachi over, forcing his ass up in the air. It waved at him invitingly. He smirked as he heard a yelp of surprise from his target, but no more delaying. He was plenty ready now.

He pulled Itachi' still-worn pants down with relish, earning another gasp as he leaned over Itachi, chest to back like a blanket. He smoothed Itachi's ass with one hand, the other firm on his hip. Itachi wiggled, and Madara slapped him hard on his behind. Itachi gave a startled 'mmph!' and Madara found he liked the way that that pale skin reddened under his hand. He did it again, and again, and it never got old. Soon enough, though, his aching arousal made its presence known, and he sat up with a growl. He sat back on his knees, unzipping his fly to let his woody be slapped by the cold air.

He heard a gasp, and looked at Itachi. The kid was looking back at him, and Madara saw with satisfaction and more than a little arousal that he was staring, flushed, at his massive cock. His face was beautifully flushed, and when he looked up at Madara, he looked innocent and trusting, and more than a little wanting. Madara growled possessively, slapping Itachi's ass one more time before sitting up and forcing himself in to that tight, hot hole.

He heard Itachi's pained, ragged gasp, but barely registered it through the heat and constriction. He just sat there for a moment, shaking and gathering his wits. He looked down and saw that there were a few unwanted tears pricking his boy's eyes. He leaned in and licked them away sensually, thinking about the anatomy of the human body, the placement of the prostate, the length of his own cock, and Itachi's personal dimensions. When he was sure of himself- which didn't take long- he pulled out almost completely and rammed back in at the correct angle. Itachi threw his head back and screamed in pleasure as Madara hit his prostate hard.

Madara smirked. Bingo.

He pelted Itachi's sweet spot, loving every single moan, gasp, and scream. But more than that, Itachi was hotter, tighter, younger, more innocent, and far more arousing than any other man, or boy, he'd ever done. The way he squirmed below him lit him on fire.

"Na, Itachi," he breathed out, "how's my aim? Mm?"

"A-ah! Y-you're great, ngh… it's perfect, sensei, ah!" Itachi panted. Madara growled.

"Keep talking, little boy," he ordered.

"Y-you keep hitting my place- mmgh! A-aaaahhh~…"

"Keep going."

"Y-you're huge, it's so gooo~ood…" Itachi moaned. Madara growled at how tiny, how much like a little slut-slave, Itachi sounded. He went a little faster.

"AAAAH! SENSEEEEEIIIIIII!!!" Itachi screamed, his cum watering the grass plentifully. Madara grunted, leaning back as his orgasm racked his body. He pulled out, leaving Itachi panting. As the trees covered him up he looked behind him and said,

"We need to test your aim more often."

And then he was gone.


End file.
